Nothing Comes After You
by IzzieXDiyanah
Summary: This was my life, though. I guess I'll meet her on the other side someday, but right now, I was here, and I'd continue to drive alone. And when the time came, I'd die on my own.


**A/N: R&R PLEASE! This fic was inspired by Tokio Hotel's Phantomrider. I don't know if it's good, but enjoy anyway. Loves.**

I got into the car without even a second to think because I knew that if I gave myself that one second, just that one moment to hesitate, I wouldn't have done it. My conscience would've said, "Are you freaking _psycho_, Christian?" It was normally a safe bet to go with whatever my mind was telling me. It kept me from dying most of the time, but just for tonight, I couldn't let myself listen to it. Just for tonight, I wanted to do something stupid, _be_ stupid and not care. I don't want to care anymore. I cared too much about what happened to her, what she was doing, what she had done. If I hadn't cared, I don't think I'd be this screwed up inside. Oh, I know people go on and on about Rose and how she must've been so affected by her death that it was a wonder she hadn't gone crazy yet, but what about me? Why don't they think about _me_? Don't _I_ feel pain, too? I mean, I loved the girl. I loved her to the point of insanity. But that was exactly what was wrong with me, wasn't it? No one would ever want to lose their mind. Even I, who entertained thoughts of killing Strigoi on my own someday which was most probably a death wish and played with fire day and night, would never want to go crazy. But, when it came to her, there was nothing that I wanted more. It was an insanity that I adored, the type of thing that you would lose yourself in and become so addicted to that when you lose it, you're just like any other junkie you'd find on the streets or in some rundown motel. It wasn't something you'd ever want to give up.

And I was so addicted. So very, very addicted. She was the very air I breathed, and I'd lost her and now, even as I breathe, the air that filled my lungs felt so foreign. It was like all this time, I'd been hooked on heroin, and then suddenly, some idiot who thought that he or she would be doing me a tremendous favour simply takes it away and I'd be stuck there, sitting in some dark corner, shaking and shaking and shaking, turning paler and thinner and finally becoming what resembled a walking, talking, breathing skeleton. Or maybe the pain of withdrawal would prove too much for me to bear and I'd end up taking my own life.

Of course, I didn't actually plan on killing myself for real, but if I could just hurt myself so bad that it would substitute the pain I felt inside that was eating me alive, I'd be so happy. I've heard stories of people who came within a hair-breadth of death and seeing the ones they loved, pushing them to fight and live because it just wasn't their time to die yet―and that was the exact thing I yearned for. If I could just see Lissa one more time, I swear that I wouldn't do anything stupid again. I wouldn't even plan a funeral until I was at least a hundred years old.

A big―and I mean _big_―tree pulled me back into my consciousness. I was certain that I hadn't fainted or anything like that because if I had, I doubt that I'd be driving down the one road that led to the gates that would finally take me out of the Court. Well, technically, I was driving down the road a minute ago. Now, I was driving on grass, after having missed that tree by about a centimetre. Yes, I know that I was exaggerating, but it brought me some fun―however little it may be―to see the panic-stricken looks on the faces of the guardians who were foolishly trying to chase a car going sixty five miles an hour on foot. I mean, I don't know if it was possible for them to run that fast and somehow pull off dragging me away from the steering wheel. They do go through some pretty intense training, after all, so if they were able to do things like that, I wouldn't be surprised. But, the guardians seemed to have temporarily lost their wits so speeding out of the gates wasn't really that hard.

Behind me, I could hear yelling and screaming. I couldn't tell what they were saying. A voice in the back of my head was bombarding questions at my brain and my train of thought was so hazy, I didn't think that it even belonged to me anymore. But somehow, somewhere in that exceptionally confused brain of mine, a thought was able to give voice to itself and ask me what the hell I was doing.

Truth be told, I had no idea. I didn't even have a driver's license, for God's sake. If I were to be pulled over by police, I would die. I'd be in so much trouble. I'm pretty sure that driving without a license is illegal and that you could actually get thrown in jail for it. If that were to happen, someone from Court would have to come and bail me out and then a new scandal would break from amongst the Ozera family. As if people didn't already chastise us enough for my parents willingly turning to Strigoi.

But this is all you have now, I thought. I don't know how being stupid and reckless came to being so important to me, but it was. It was the only way that I could forget about everything because my mind would be berating me for doing things that were so out of bounds, so far out that even I, the very person who had thought up all those things, wouldn't be able to comprehend my actions. However, I do know that most of the time, what drove me to do things that had a great chance of endangering me was the feeling of utter invincibility against pain. When I stand out on a perilously small ledge somewhere and I was just about to fall, it felt like the world couldn't touch Christian Ozera.

And that was all I wanted.

Every single day that passes by, I tell myself that I want to forget about her and let go of all this pain, that I wanted, needed to lead a normal life again. Granted, my life was never normal on common standards, but it was normal for me, and I needed to get back to that. But then even as I repeat all those things in my mind, my gut begins to feel so constricted and my heart feels like it's being ripped out of my chest with all the gooey, red stuff still in tact, and I feel so afraid. I become so frightened out of my wits because there's something inside me telling me that if I let go of this pain, then I wouldn't have anything to hold onto of Lissa. I'd let go of her, too, and all those therapists might say that letting go was the first step to a happier life and a non-tormented soul, but they just don't understand that sometimes, a tormented soul was the only thing that kept that person human.

I don't know how far I've driven, but it must've been quite a deal away from Court because I couldn't see lights anymore whenever I took a glimpse in the rear-view mirror. All I did see was a trail of darkness that never disappeared. Predictably, I was well aware that it was nothing but the dark, dark road that lead to God knows where, but to me, it was more than that. This was the darkness that would follow me around everywhere I went through every day of my life and it would slowly gain an upper hand on me with every second that leaves my life until, finally, I would be engulfed by it. It started with my parents and the pain I felt at the fact that they'd leave me just like that, then it got worse when everyone started judging me for what my parents had done, treating me the way they'd treat them were they still alive. And then, eventually, worse became worst with Lissa's death.

When the car finally stopped on the side of the road, I stepped out. It didn't surprise me that I knew exactly what to do without needing to think about it. My body needed no direction from my brain to decide what to do next. That soft, pink thing in my skull which we call a brain would probably tell my body, "Stop it. This is stupid. He needs to think this through." But my heart would say, "Come on, arms. Come on legs. Move. You know what he needs." And that was probably the organ from which my body took its orders. A sane person would probably stop himself before he did anything that he hadn't thought of, but I didn't, and if that makes me crazy, then so be it. For all I knew, I could be the only one in this world who was sane and everyone else, the ones who listened to their common sense and logic and whatnot? They could be the ones who were crazy and not me.

I was watching a show today and I'd learned that people suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder usually had some sort of trigger that sent them back into…whatever it was that people with PTSD go back into―it was a cop show, rather like CSI so it wasn't really that informative on this particular disorder―and I suppose, even though I don't suffer from it, I had a trigger, too. Something that would launch me back into memories. I didn't know what my trigger was. It was like everything reminded me of Lissa. Grass, dried leaves, a white blouse, pale blonde hair and even any royal Moroi of the female variety.

And as I fall to the ground, like some weak, thin, odd-looking child who'd just been shoved by the reigning playground bully, I closed my eyes and I was back in a car, one that looked a lot like the car I'd just stolen from my guardians. Everything was the same, actually. From the dark, tinted windows to the black seats to the radio playing some song that I wouldn't recognise even if I tried my hardest to remember it. There were only two things that were different and those things were one, a pair of eyes shaded by sunglasses looking back at me in the rear-view mirror and two, Vasilissa Dragomir.

She was looking out the window, watching the road and unimportant vegetation pass us by as we sped back towards St. Vladimir's. I'd made a big fuss out of going shopping with her earlier that day, complaining about why Rose wasn't enough and why she had to subject to such a cruel method of torture, but now, with the car going down the highway at an almost-but-not-quite dangerous pace, I begin to feel sad. It wasn't because I had enjoyed shopping. No, it certainly wasn't that. I hadn't bought anything but Skittles anyway. I was sad about losing that little bit of air that we'd breathed for three hours that wasn't controlled by the Queen.

I think that maybe Lissa felt the same way, too. It wasn't often that we could escape the rules that bound us so tightly, but when we did, it was heaven. Rose was happy, too. She'd gotten into so much trouble with the teachers lately that I think it's possible she's on her way to beating me as most hated student. I knew Rose wasn't a bad person, though. In fact, she was actually really good. Almost an angel. It's just that she hasn't had anything to be angelic about. Yeah, people looked up to her and thought her a hero for going on that Strigoi killing spree in Russia. They thought it was pretty great, actually, the way she'd taken off like that to avenge the people whose lives had been lost in the attack on St. Vlad's, but those people also talked about her behind her back, gossiping unsavoury stuff regarding her. They just didn't get that she was haunted. I know that killing Strigoi is good, but it must be hard on the soul. She probably looked at it like it was murder or something.

Lissa thought the same as I did. We both saw the raw pain that was always so evident in Rose's eyes when she began to lose herself in her thoughts. I don't know what I'd ever do if Lissa ever became like that, like Rose. But, I guess, in many ways, Lissa was a lot luckier than Rose. If anything happened to make her hurt that much, I'd still be there for her and I'd hold her until her heart could mend itself. Rose didn't have anyone to do that for her.

"Christian," her voice pierced through whatever fog my brain had woven around me, taking my attention off my melancholy thoughts and onto her. "Do you think that we'd ever be able to go to Berlin?"

_Berlin_? Why would she want to go to Berlin? "Berlin? Why would you want to go to Berlin?"

"To reinvent myself." Her answer was simple and straightforward. I was just about to open my mouth and say some witty comment, but she wasn't finished yet. "And make us work. People there wouldn't care about how messed up we are. We could start a new life."

Oh, well, if that was her reason for going to Germany, then I certainly had no complaints. If I could, if there was even a small chance that we'd be able to do it, I would've called the airline company and booked a one-way flight to Berlin.

She smiled, as if she were a mind reader and knew my thoughts. I smiled back. If we ran away to Berlin, we could get married and that old fart, Queen Tatiana, wouldn't be able to do anything. Well, no, that wasn't true. She could make me separate from Lissa. Get a divorce and all that. I don't know how she'd do it, but I know she could. That wasn't something I needed to worry about right now, though. Right now, in my mind, I was her knight in shining armour. I could take her away and make her the happiest woman alive. That is, until Tatiana finds us in Germany and forces us back. Well, she'd force Lissa to come back, but I'm not so sure about me. She'd probably leave me penniless in Berlin, for all I know. God, would I be misera―_HONK!_

"Dude, are you crazy? I could've run over you!"

I looked up at the blonde, definitely not Moroi or Strigoi or dhampir guy, and wanted to murder him. This might seem strange, but it was good to feel an emotion other than self-pity and self-loathing.

I must've stayed silent for a really long time because the guy simply gave up talking to me and drove away.

I got back into the car. Somehow, everything made more sense out there when I was thinking about me and Lissa, what I used to be. I was happier back then. I felt it in my bones, with every nerve and cell in my body. I used to be happy. Why couldn't I just go back to that? Because I'd lost Lissa? Or because I'd lost my humanity?

And it was true. I don't think I'm human anymore. When my parents left, they took a piece of myself and gradually, through all the days in my life, more of my soul left me and when Lissa left, she'd taken everything. She'd killed me―but if I could feel her with me again, I'd have her kill me a thousand times.

This was my life, though. I guess I'll meet her on the other side someday, but right now, I was here, and I'd continue to drive alone. When the time came, I'd die on my own.


End file.
